


Your Canvas

by jetaimerai



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Body Paint, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-16
Updated: 2006-12-16
Packaged: 2019-01-28 21:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12615728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetaimerai/pseuds/jetaimerai
Summary: “I want you to paint on me,” Peter said, sprawled across Isaac’s bed, nude yet completely relaxed.





	Your Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](https://hauntedreality.livejournal.com/profile)[](https://hauntedreality.livejournal.com/)**hauntedreality**. Merry Christmas, and I hope you like it! ♥
> 
> This is heavily influenced by the film The Pillowbook. xD And "unmei" means destiny, and "ai" means love in Japanese.

Isaac stared, uncertain if he heard correctly. “Are you serious?”

“Utterly,” he clarified as he leaned closer to the artist. He grasped the hand that had been idly sitting in Isaac’s lap and placed it against his own heart. His eyes darkened with desire as he whispered, “Use my body as your canvas.”

The intensity of his gaze enraptured him as Isaac considered his proposal. It was almost like temptation, except that resistance was not an option. Somehow, he immediately knew what he wanted to paint. “When I get back, I want you to be lying on your stomach.”

The delighted grin that lit up Peter’s face made his heart clench, and he bridged the gap between them for a brief yet loving kiss. Isaac slowly broke the kiss, feeling reluctant to part him, but he stood up and dashed into his studio to pick up his supplies. He didn’t need too much: just a few shades of white and black, along with some different sized brushes and water. When he returned, Peter had followed his order; he was now on his stomach, his arms crossed beneath his head. His smile brightened as Isaac walked closer.

“You’ll have to stay completely still,” Isaac warned as he climbed onto the bed.

“I am perfectly capable of that,” Peter replied confidently.

Isaac smirked. “If you say so,” he said as he gently straddled Peter’s ass. Peter took in a sharp breath. “Relax,” he murmured, and Peter let out a pleased sigh as Isaac ran his hands up and down the smooth expanse of his back.

Once Peter was fully calm, Isaac wet a brush, dipped it in paint, and drew the first stroke on his back. The paint and wetness was cold at first, but the softness of the brush and its glide across his skin provided a pleasurable sensation. Peter closed his eyes and focused only on the brushstrokes, which were slow and careful; each felt like a gentle, loving caress.

The only sounds in the room were the occasional splash of water and their breathing, which had synchronized to each other. Words were unnecessary as Isaac painted. The passage of time went unnoticed, and they didn’t know how many hours had gone by.

Peter had been close to falling asleep, a testament to how comforting and relaxing it felt, when Isaac finally declared, “It’s finished.”

Peter’s eyes snapped open as excitement rushed through him. He started to push himself up, but Isaac pushed him back down. “Hold on, give the paint a little time to dry first.” Peter made an impatient noise but acquiesced.

When he felt Isaac’s warm pressure disappear, Peter almost whimpered in protest. Isaac slid off the bed and said, “Now you can get up, but be careful.” Peter gingerly sat up and slid off the bed. Isaac grasped his hand as he led him into the bathroom. He let his hand go when he flicked on the light.

Peter stood, his back facing the mirror, and turned his head to gaze at his back. At the first glance, he gasped. Painted on his back were two majestic white angel wings. The wings took up his entire back, and the feathers were meticulously detailed.

“Now you can fly without your brother,” Isaac said quietly.

Peter gulped as a strong swell of love rose in him. He turned his attention away from the mirror and back to Isaac. “Isaac… I…” He struggled to find something to say, something to convey how much this meant to him.

Isaac smiled as another idea struck him. “Wait, I’m not quite finished yet.” He stepped closer to Peter and took his left hand. He picked up the brush he left on the counter and drew a quick succession of strokes in black paint. Hiro had taught him some kanji, and Isaac found the symbols to be very beautiful; he felt it would be only more beautiful on Peter.

“Unmei,” he whispered, “For how we were brought together.” He let go of the hand and picked up the other one. He drew a different pattern of strokes on this hand. “Ai, for what we have together.”

Peter’s eyes stung with unshed tears. Instead of saying anything – not that he could adequately express the intensity of his emotions with words – he expressed his feelings through an explosively passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of love into it, and Isaac returned it with equal measure.

He had used this canvas, Peter’s beautiful body, to convey all his love for him – and it was a masterpiece.


End file.
